Today I sit, unsure of what to write. I looked at my blog, checked stats. I average a hundred viewers a day. ...and I'm sitting on the brink of 80,000 visitors. God has certainly blessed me. He has given me items of thought, rants, hallelujahs, and I'm sure there were many times when you, my readers wanted to tell me to keep my thoughts to myself...which I kind of have done, seeing as YOU come HERE and read what I have to say. And that floors me. It really does. I mean I have so little going on in my life. Sitting in my recliner, reading, writing, getting out of the house once or twice a week. It's like painting a series of paintings with a limited palette. When you . look through my paintings, especially my earlier ones you would see a lot of Prussian blue and Thalo greenNo matter what I wanted to paint and how much I desired to be bright and full of light....I ended up with those two colors dominating my canvas.
Then I crossed a LONG period of years where I did not paint. My spirit was healing in those years and when again I touched brush to canvas, there was cadmium yellow, violet, burnt umber, and chromium green. These were to me, colors of joy. Joy in the rediscovery of my art. Joy that the years of blackness of soul were passed.
Now I paint with words. I have a painting program which I need to load into my computer and a tablet by which I can paint....and sometimes I get the urge to do that. Last night I watched the movie, 'Words and Pictures' about an artist who had to turn teacher because of her increasing disability from RA. It made me feel like painting. And yet it also made me feel like writing. I am blessed that God has granted me both gifts. Right now however I have a book that needs to be worked on and brought to print...
I confess to you, now that it is all written, I am frightened to make it final. Frightened that I've made a mistake. Frightened that someone in my past life might find themselves in the chapters and not like how I've described them....even though I've changed names to protect people, those who read my book with MY name as author, they will know who they are.
My husband has told me I cannot write a book and have it mean anything true because I do not remember my past 6 years. But that is not really true. I've WORKED HARD at regaining memory. And it is true that there are things I do not remember. There are some people who I know I had hurt during that time and I do not recall what I did to hurt them, which makes it extremely hard to apologize and make right. So these things....those "blanks" in my memories ---I leave them blank. I do not discuss what I do not remember. And the people who were friends for many years, who have stopped talking to me after my long period of psychosis in the years between 2006-2010...I left them out of my book. Even though they had big parts of my life invested in them, I left them out. I do not want to speak out of my hurt. I do not wish to point blame at someone for their ignorance about my illness. So I will be silent.
That last paragraph was Prussian Blue. And my heart is sinking in my chest. Old pain. Old scars.
Then I crossed a LONG period of years where I did not paint. My spirit was healing in those years and when again I touched brush to canvas, there was cadmium yellow, violet, burnt umber, and chromium green. These were to me, colors of joy. Joy in the rediscovery of my art. Joy that the years of blackness of soul were passed.
Now I paint with words. I have a painting program which I need to load into my computer and a tablet by which I can paint....and sometimes I get the urge to do that. Last night I watched the movie, 'Words and Pictures' about an artist who had to turn teacher because of her increasing disability from RA. It made me feel like painting. And yet it also made me feel like writing. I am blessed that God has granted me both gifts. Right now however I have a book that needs to be worked on and brought to print...
I confess to you, now that it is all written, I am frightened to make it final. Frightened that I've made a mistake. Frightened that someone in my past life might find themselves in the chapters and not like how I've described them....even though I've changed names to protect people, those who read my book with MY name as author, they will know who they are.
My husband has told me I cannot write a book and have it mean anything true because I do not remember my past 6 years. But that is not really true. I've WORKED HARD at regaining memory. And it is true that there are things I do not remember. There are some people who I know I had hurt during that time and I do not recall what I did to hurt them, which makes it extremely hard to apologize and make right. So these things....those "blanks" in my memories ---I leave them blank. I do not discuss what I do not remember. And the people who were friends for many years, who have stopped talking to me after my long period of psychosis in the years between 2006-2010...I left them out of my book. Even though they had big parts of my life invested in them, I left them out. I do not want to speak out of my hurt. I do not wish to point blame at someone for their ignorance about my illness. So I will be silent.
That last paragraph was Prussian Blue. And my heart is sinking in my chest. Old pain. Old scars.
No comments:
Post a Comment